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by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28497171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: For once, Noct’s not the messy one.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/?
Comments: 17
Kudos: 35





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**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The various councilors and dignitaries pour out into the corridor, funneling towards the elevators and eventually their cars. Even though Noctis still has a full suite in the Citadel, he’s usually the first one to the lobby, always eager to flee the building and all the bitter memories and responsibilities it represents. This time, he actually lets the minister of finances squeeze out in front of him. He dawdles through the long hallway, eyes darting back to his bodyguard whenever he thinks he can get away with it. There’s a smudge on Gladiolus’ collar that’s been bugging him _all evening._

It’s a barely-there light pink blob on an otherwise white shirt under the usual black jacket, and there’s no other colour anywhere on the entire ensemble. That still shouldn’t mean much. It’s a tad too bright to be blood, but then, Gladiolus could’ve had a nosebleed, wiped it on his shirt, and put some kind of chemical on it to remove the stain that didn’t do its job. Or maybe Gladiolus ate some fanciful candies for lunch and got pink icing on his shirt, which would be way worse than him bleeding, because it would mean he had goodies he didn’t share with his prince. Neither story is particularly interesting in and of itself, but juxtaposed with a three hour long official meeting on whether or not to sanction Kenny Crow pictures on the side of buses, suddenly Gladiolus’ minor wardrobe malfunction is _fascinating._ Noctis doesn’t care about the existing public service announcement ads on public transit or the delicate balance of extra funds versus the dignity of government property. He cares that for once, _he_ wasn’t the one to show up at the Citadel with something Ignis could pick apart. But he double-checks his memory to be sure he’s wearing matching socks before he decides to say anything about it, just in case. 

When he’s satisfied himself that his own appearance is uncharacteristically appropriate—he even had Prompto come over and brush his hair while he beat their current Justice Monsters X gold cup record—he tugs Gladiolus’ sleeve and nods to the other end of the hall. Gladiolus glances at him curious, but follows. Noctis guides them half behind a gleaming white pillar, far enough away from the departing figureheads to afford Gladiolus some privacy when Noctis rips into him.

It also gives Noctis the opportunity to get a closer, proper look. When he does, he instantly puts it together—the shape isn’t blood spatter or spilled food or even a half-dissolved stain, but the outline of _lips_.

Someone smeared _lipstick_ on Gladiolus’ collar. Which makes Noctis turn pink just to think about, but he still manages to jab an accusing finger at the mark and snort, “Is that what you wear to an audience with the king, _royal_ shield?” It doesn’t matter that Noctis once stumbled into the throne room in sweats. Noctis doesn’t take pride in his position like Gladiolus does.

Gladiolus follows Noctis’ line of sight, loops a finger in his collar, and draws it out enough to look at. Then his cheeks turn much redder than Noctis’. That’s enough of a victory for Noctis, but it helps when Gladiolus mutters, “ _Shit._ Do you think His Majesty noticed?”

Probably not. He only seems to notice when _Noctis_ screws up. Noctis still laughs. “Oh man, showing up to the Citadel with a lipstick stain! Iggy’d _kill_ you if he saw that!”

If Ignis had been forced to attend the meeting like Noctis, he probably would’ve spent the bulk of it glaring at the shield standing stiffly along the wall. Fortunately for Gladiolus, he had a prior engagement with Clarus and said he wouldn’t be able to see Noctis until after the meeting. When he promised to pick Noctis up. And take Noctis out shopping for new suits for the upcoming ball, because of course Ignis thinks they should look professional all the time. 

Gladiolus looks annoyed and counters, “Hey, just because I’m not the _virginal_ prince—”

“Wh—shut up!”

“You started it—” But that’s all Gladiolus gets out, because Noctis’ advisor shows up on the other side of the pillar like he’s been summoned by the Six themselves. Noctis would like to think it’s karma—exactly what Gladiolus gets for taking his prince’s name in vain. 

Ignis immediately asks, “What’s all this fuss? I just passed council chambers, and His Majesty can hear the two of you—”

Noctis doesn’t let him finish, instead pointing to Gladiolus and triumphantly ratting him out. “Gladio came to work with some girl’s makeup on his shirt!”

Ignis’ head snaps to the offending mark. For a split second, the colour seems to drain from his face. Then he lets out a weary sigh and recovers himself. Reaching out, he rubs the bright pigment, blurring but not erasing it. He tells Noctis while he does so, “First of all, it’s lip gloss, not lipstick. Second of all, it’s very antiquated of you to assume it belonged to a woman.” As Ignis withdraws his hand, he quietly adds, “Nevertheless, I will refrain from using such opaque shades in the future.”

While Noctis blinks in confusion, Gladiolus grunts, “But I liked the pink.” 

“It was salmon, and it’s not up for debate. I’ll only buy clear from now on. And I apologize for this indiscretion in the meantime.” Then Ignis turns to Noctis and bids, “Your tutor called to say he needs to reschedule tonight, so that should give us more time at the tailor’s, but you have an interview at six tomorrow morning, so we should still make sure to get you home by a reasonable hour. Let’s go.” And then he turns on his heel and marches off. Noctis feels the usual telltale tug of his invisible leash but doesn’t shuffle after Ignis like he should. 

Instead, he shoots Gladiolus a confused look, because he doesn’t at all understand what just happened. He manages a baffled, “I don’t get it. Why didn’t he yell at you?”

Gladiolus seems to struggle before allowing a small grin that could almost be a smirk. “I wasn’t gonna say anything, but... now that the cat’s out of the bag... who do you think left those marks?”

Noctis stares. Gladiolus brushes past him, trailing Ignis, and it isn’t until he hears the elevator doors part in the distance that it all clicks in Noctis’ head. 

He makes a disgusting choking noise like he just found out his two brothers are banging, and then he rushes after to tell them off for soiling his brain.


End file.
